Tell Her I'm Sorry
by ParaspriteProtector
Summary: The two centuries of peace that followed Pitch Black's attack on the children of the world is interrupted by the fiercest enemy the Guardians have ever faced. As the leader of his own task force of winter spirits, Jack Frost leads the charge against Black Ice in the hopes of protecting the rights and independence of both spirits and humanity from his power-hunger fuelled agenda.


Chapter one.

Sticky rings of brown and red littered the wooden floor of the Santoff Claussen board room. The boots of jingling elves peeled off the ground like Velcro as they scrambled over its syrupy surface. They cleaned and tidied away any evidence of yet another Guardian get-together before North's work day began. It had been two hundred and eleven years since the Boogyman's failed attack on the world's children and, without the excuse of a mission to draw the guardians of childhood together, Tooth, Bunnymund, Jack and Sandy frequently joined North for a catch-up at his headquarters. Like clockwork, these soiree's devolved into a night of drinking and shooting the shit. The five friends, who were more like family, couldn't imagine these nights any other way.

A lot had changed for Jack Frost over that past two centuries: Global warming being the main culprit. Winter across the globe had become too unruly and unpredictable for just one elemental spirit to control. The Man in the Moon had selected two new winter spirits to work alongside Jack to reduce the damage cased by their harsh season and to remind humanity that winter could still be beautiful and fun. With their help, Jack established an H.Q. of his own in Burgess to accurately monitor and detect where their assistance was required. Drift, a sixty-three-year-old slender lady with dusty grey hair that fell past her waste, was chosen one hundred and forty-nine years ago in order to establish calm in areas where the cold and snow had devastated communities. She was deployed to towns with the sole purpose of reminding the public of the beauty and tranquillity winter could provide. She worked as damage control, helping communities feel less persecuted by severed weather by blanketing towns with a thin layer of fluffy, picturesque snow. Jack had grown to love her like a grandmother and relied on her for her solace and advice that only an elderly woman could provide. Blizzard, an eleven-year-old 'Jack frost' in training, was new to spirit life having been chosen only forty-seven years ago. He was mischievous and reminded Jack of himself before centuries of immense responsibility had aged him. Blizzard worked closely with Jack to control the worst of winters weather. They operated tirelessly to reduce fatalities, injuries, and damages to property. Blizzard was Jack's apprentice, and Jack frequently grew weary of Blizzard's inability to take anything seriously. He was truly a young Jack frost in the making: the man he used to be before he became a guardian.

North staggered into the board room, one hand shielding his eyes from the glow of the sun from the snow that beamed through the windows, the other grasping a mug of black coffee. North prided himself in his ability to handle his drink, but the night before had lasted longer than he was used too. However, with Christmas day fast approaching, a hangover was no excuse for a day in bed. With a head that felt two times too small for his brain, he tried to catch his bearings when he felt a chill creep down the back of his neck. He was about to curse the yetis for leaving the front doors open and letting in a draft when he heard a crisp crunching sound coming from the Globe: a relic from the past that hadn't stirred in years. He turned to look at the source of the sound, eyes still squinting from the bright room. A thick layer of ice began to engulf the sphere, crackling as it splintered like cobwebs over its entirety. North approached it slowly, wading through fear while his elves scattered behind pillars and into the far corners of the room. He stretched his tattooed hand to touch the globe's surface when Jack Frost burst from a portal in the centre of the room. With a bloodied nose, a ripped hoodie and a look of fury in his eyes that North had never seen, it was clear to North that these two centuries of peace were over.


End file.
